Denial
by You'veBeenJayed
Summary: What do you do when the one you said you would do anything for asks you to kill them? Would you do it? Would you have a choice?" K2


**Don't ask me where this came from. It's completely random. The summary thing came to me out of nowhere and I was watching South Park when it did, so of course Kenny came to mind. I also love K2, so Kyle naturally followed suit. Then I decided to write about it, like any bored author, xD. So read on!**

**--**

This wasn't happening. This just wasn't fucking happening. I had to of been dreaming. There's no way this was real. There's just no way in hell.

I pinched myself.

Closed my eyes.

Nope. Still here when I opened them. Everything was exactly the same. The scene was still eerily dramatic. The same blood was still splattered on the walls, the same gun was still in _my_ hand, the same shadows were still looming over and around me, and the same body was still dropped dead on the floor. He hadn't stood up, laughed, told me he was just joking, that this was some cruel joke he and the guys set up.

No, this was just too good to be a joke.

This was just too real.

I couldn't accept this. There was no way. My eyes, seeing the body, said it was real; my ears, hearing the ring of the gunshot, said it was real; my nose, smelling the crimson blood, said it was real; my lips, still tasting him, said it was real; my body, shaking uncontrollably, said it was real; however my mind, experiencing it in all the senses, still denied it truly and fully.

This just wasn't happening.

No—this just didn't happen.

The authorities came in. They saw the sight, saw me, their minds easily put two and two together and started dragging me away. I was numb until I felt the shock of someone pulling me up and dragging me away. I didn't want to leave yet! I wasn't done looking at him! Leave me alone! The words formed in my mind, but not in my throat. All that came out was a gargled squeak.

I tried fighting them back, tried getting away—I wasn't ready to leave him yet!—but my body didn't want to respond. Not my voice, nor my body, or mind. None of it was registering. This wasn't happening. This wasn't real.

I finally snapped and broke free. The second I was free, I ran towards his body and started shaking it over and over again. My body was working. I began screaming his name to the heavens, hoping for him to hear me wherever he was now, to come back. He couldn't do this to me! My voice began working. I looked at him, fully, taking in his entire form. My mind tried to begin working.

Time stopped.

Time reversed.

--

"Kenny, what's wrong with you lately? You've been acting so weird and distant," I said to the blonde-haired boy. There was no response. He merely sat on his ratty couch, staring blankly at the alcohol stained carpet. "Kenny, please! You're starting to scare me," I felt close to tears, but there was no way I was going to succumb to that.

He had been acting this way for over a week now, ever since the last time he died and came back. It hurt me to see him this way. He refused to tell anyone, including me, about anything. I didn't know what was going on.

I stared at him in silence. I sighed, frowning. The sun was setting steadily outside his broken windows. We were all alone in his dimly lit empty house. It was small, but it couldn't have felt bigger now. It seemed as if we were the only people left in the world.

I gulped and risked speaking again. "K-kenny—"

"Kyle, have you ever wanted to kill yourself?" His voice finally spoke up. The odd tone of the equally odd question echoed off the walls, bouncing back to me.

I became nervous and shifted position. "Maybe once or twice, but not exceptionally. W-why?" I really didn't want to find out why.

There was another thirty seconds of silence before Kenny finally responded, still staring at his carpet, refusing to meet my gaze. I was almost afraid to see his eyes anyway. "Do you know what it's like wanting to kill yourself constantly, doing it, then just coming right the fuck back anyway? Do you have any idea how much that sucks?"

I didn't miss a beat. "No. I don't."

"I'm glad—it's hell. Something I never want you to go through. Hell's not a very fun place, Kyle," He paused. I wasn't sure what to say. "Your dad is a lawyer, right?" I nodded numbly. "Then I'm sure you know the rules and regulations for contracts. Once you sign it, there's no backing out, no matter how much you deny doing it. But within every contract, there is always a loophole."

"Wh-where are you getting at?" I asked nervously.

"I signed a contract with the devil, Kyle. A long time ago. He promised nothing bad would ever happen to the ones I loved so long as he could experiment with death—using me as a guinea pig. The contract stated that as long as I'm never able to be dead for more than a week—never able to die—then all my loved ones would live happy, fulfilled lives." He lifted his head slightly, but not all the way up. "I couldn't go on with that. So I found a loophole.

"Do you know what that loophole was, Kyle?"

I shook my head again, afraid to speak now. I felt a giant lump forming in my throat, trying to cut off my air supply and choke me to death right then and there. Oh, the irony in that statement.

Kenny stood. He pulled an object out of his jacket pocket that struck fear into my heart. "The loophole stated that if I could get the one I loved to kill me, then that would be it. I would be dead," He smiled manically. "I would never come back. I would never be killed again. That would be the end of it."

He took many shaky steps towards me. I was frozen to the spot. My heart felt like it was ready to stop, but I could hear it pounding loudly in my ears. He finally stopped within inches of me. He held the gun out to me.

"Take it Kyle," His eyes finally shot up and met mine. "Please, do this. For me.

"I want you to shoot me."

I wasn't given a chance to respond. As soon as he said those deadly words, Kenny leaned down, grabbed my chin, and kissed my lips. It was a long, passionate, pleading kiss. I never kissed back. I didn't know what to do. I thought he was breathing poison into me; but I knew I loved him regardless.

The kiss ended too early and by the time he backed away and stood in front of me, crystal blue eyes penetrating my jade green ones, I realized he had somewhere along the line forced the gun into my hand, finger on the trigger.

I didn't know what to do. I just stared at him helplessly.

"Kyle, would you do anything for me?" Kenny asked finally, his eyes never leaving mine.

I responded in a heartbeat. "Yes, Kenny. I would do anything."

"Then kill me. I want you to kill me."

I stood in silence, staring at him, gun in hand. My hand shakily, with a mind of its own, began rising hesitantly to face him. To face Kenny. To face the one I loved.

What do you do when the one you said you would do anything for asks you to kill them? Would you do it? Would you have a choice?

The gunshot echoed off the walls of the lonely house, crashing into my ears and knocking me backwards, numbing my mind.

Blood splattered in silhouettes across the still-warm couch and carpet floor.

I put a hand to my lips, still tasting him.

I gripped the gun tightly, then loosened it.

I stared at the dead body in front of me. The one I just killed.

All the evidence was there that I killed him. The sound, the smell, the feel, the taste, the sight. The everything. It was all right there.

My mind denied it all.

This wasn't happening. This just wasn't fucking happening. I had to of been dreaming. There's no way this was real. There's just no way in hell.

I pinched myself.

Closed my eyes.

Nope. Still here when I opened them. Everything was exactly the same.


End file.
